Next Time You Judge Someone
by MadreLoca
Summary: . . .maybe you should take a minute to consider what they might be going through.  Inspired by a true story.  Morgan and Reid friendship.  My summaries are usually much better!


**Title** – Next Time You Judge Someone

**Summary** –… maybe you should take a minute to consider what they might be going through. Inspired by a true story. Schizophrenic Reid, Morgan and Reid friendship. My summaries are usually much better!

**Rating** – T

**Comments –** This fic is in fact inspired by a true story. It is the story of a man who we will call Bob Brown. Bob brown spends a lot of time at my local shopping mall. He is actually almost constantly there. One day I saw a group of teenagers looking at him like he was a leper or something. I had never been afraid of him, but I did get worried about him; I thought he was just some homeless guy. I talked to the head of mall security (who is also a very close friend of mine) about this man. He told me that Mr. Brown was one of the most successful lawyers in the county before he was hit by a truck in the process of saving a stranger's child and was brain damaged. So please take the following quote by H Jackson Brown Jr. to heart and think before you judge!

_"Remember that everyone you meet is __afraid__ of something, __loves__ something, and has __lost__ something."  
><em>_**H. Jackson Brown Jr.**_

The shopping center was loud and crowded that Saturday afternoon. The halls bustled with busy employees, shoppers with their arms full of bags from various stores, and groups of cattery teenagers with no better way to spend a weekend than to meander through the halls.

In all of this commotion it was the conversation of one group of regular patrons sitting on a bench surrounded by artificial bushes under the large skylight overhead that managed to draw some unexpected attention.

Marley, Taylor, and Lilly were average teen girls; a stereotypical "blond, brunette, red-head" trio. It all started when Taylor made an observation regarding another of the mall's regular patrons.

"Who is that guy?" Taylor the brunette asked, shifting her body in apprehension. "He's here all the time and acts like he's crazy or something."

"What guy?" Marley asked, confused and apparently oblivious to the situation.

Lilly sighed impatiently, grabbed her unobservant friend's chin and turned the blonde's head in the direction of the man about whom they were gossiping.

The man was sitting on a bench alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His wavy chestnut hair almost reached his shoulders, and it hung uncombed in his serious yet nervous face. He seemed intently focused on the pen in his hands, taking it apart and putting it back together again. The fact that his right leg bounced constantly did not seem to stifle the repetitive process.

"Oh," Marley said, drawing out the long vowel sound. "Yeah, he's here all the time, so what?"

Lilly scoffed. "'So what?' Josh says that if you get to close, he'll stab you in the eye with the pen he's fiddling with."

Marley gasped but Taylor just laughed. "Lill, your boyfriend's full of shit."

"Yeah," Marley agreed after the initial shock wore off. "If he stabs people, wouldn't he be in jail or something?"

Taylor nodded. "At least a mental institution."

"Like, maybe we should at least tell security, you know?" Marley suggested.

"Security knows."

All three girls jumped at the voice behind them and turned around. Behind them stood a black man, slightly less than six feet tall with broad shoulders and a muscular build that was accentuated perfectly by a fitted navy-blue tee shirt and lose, but not baggy dark jeans. His head was shaved and his face wore a stern expression. But the sternness did not seem to fit him; his eyes were too soft.

"Who are you?" Lilly asked cautiously.

"Are you security?" Marley asked.

"No, I am not security," the man answered, sounding quite annoyed. He reached into his back pocket and retrieved what looked like a black billfold. He opened it to revile some sort of identification card or, more accurately, his FBI credentials.

"Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan," Marley read, "Behavioral Analysis Unit?"

Taylor cocked an eyebrow. "Those are the guys who find criminals be psychoanalyzing how they kill people, right?"

Agent Morgan nodded. "In a matter of speaking."

"Wow, hold on," Lilly interrupted. "You're from the FBI and you know the crazy guy?"

"He's not _crazy_," the agent informed the girls. "He's a schizophrenic, but he's not dangerous. He gunned down a couple of serial killers in his FBI days, though."

"So he's an FBI agent, too?" Marley asked in surprise.

"He used to be," the profiler corrected. He sighed wistfully and stared into the general direction of the controversial mall patron. "Before his schizophrenic broke two years ago he was one of the most brilliant profilers the BAU had ever seen."

"Great!" Lilly exclaimed sarcastically. "A skitzo who knows how to think like a killer; just what every friendly neighborhood mall needs!"

Unbeknownst to the girls, the former agent in question was now looking at them. He had abandoned his pen beside him on the bench and was no longer shaking his leg.

Morgan noticed this and met the man's gaze before focusing back on the teenagers, especially Lilly. "Just because someone suffers from the inability to organize their thoughts doesn't mean that they're going to stab you in the eye with a pen!"

Lilly averted her eyes in embarrassment; Marley and Taylor simply looked speechlessly up at the agent.

Suddenly Morgan felt guilty for being so harsh. His stern expression melted into one of compassion. "Look, I didn't mean to upset anyone. But next time you think about judging someone, maybe you should take a minute to consider what they might be going through."

Lilly still stared at the ground with a certain poutiness reminiscent of a rebellious toddler who had just been scolded. Taylor nodded thoughtfully, as if slowly digesting everything that the FBI profiler had told them. Marley was on the verge of tears, feeling guilty for speaking in such a way of a man she did not know.

"Now, came here to find a friend of mine. You young ladies have a wonderful weekend."

"Wait," Taylor insisted. "What's his name?"

Morgan looked back at the former profiler on the bench, who was shaking his leg again and tapping his fingers on the bench, his eyes darting nervously in every direction. The Agent sighed again. "Spencer Reid."

Derek Morgan walked away, making no further acknowledgment of the girls. They watched as he approached the man they had once known as "crazy guy."

Marley finally began to cry when she saw Morgan stop in front of Reid and reach out his hand. "He still loves his friend," she cried.

"Of cores he does," Taylor said, "If something like that ever happened to me, I would like to think I still have you guys. Right Mar? Lill?"

Marley whipped the tears from her face and grabbed hold of her friend's hand. Much to her own surprise, Lilly lifted her head up again and smiled at her friends, taking Taylor's other hand in hers. Marley and Lilly laughed and simultaneously chimed, "We love you Tay-Tay!" All three girls laughed together, having learned a life lesson in the last place anyone would ever expect.

Across the hall, Morgan and Reid could faintly hear their laughter. Reid reached out with a shaking hand and took hold of Morgan's outstretched hand.

"What are you doing here again, Pretty Boy?

"I…I…"

"You skipped your meds again, didn't you?"

Reid did not answer verbally; he only nodded erratically.

Morgan sighed sadly and shook his head. "Come on kid let's get out of here and get you home.

Again, Reid did not answer, he only allowed himself to be lifted off the bench and lead away.

_"A friend is one who walks in when others walk out." _  
><em><strong>Walter Winchell <strong>_


End file.
